


Bowling With Angels

by kennagirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kennagirl/pseuds/kennagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night in with a young Sam and Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowling With Angels

Dean was trying and failing to make the air-conditioner in the motel room work. They were in Nevada in the middle of summer, and Dad was off on a basic hunt and was supposed to be back late. To Dean, that meant to make sure Sammy got dinner, a bath, and into bed by the time Dad came back. And now it also meant make sure neither of them suffered a heat stroke because Dad wouldn’t like that.

“Sammy,” Dean called. Sam looked up from his spot in front of the TV. “Go take your bath.” Sam rolled his eyes in a way that a six-year-old should never do and turned back to the cheesy sitcom. “Sam,” Dean repeated. He went and stood in front of the television. “Go take your bath.”

“Why?” Sam asked, trying to lean around Dean and see the screen.

“Because I said so.” Sam gave him a look that clearly said, “Are you kidding me?” Dean sighed and switched to logic. “And if you take a bath, it will help you cool off.” Dean could see the wheels turning in Sam’s head, trying to find some reason to refuse. With a sigh that sounded like he was being forced to perform some unpleasant task, like crawl into a sewer or play with clowns, he got up and trudged to the motel bathroom. “I’ll make us some Lucky Charms for dinner. But not until you get out of the tub.” The younger Winchester sped up noticeably, practically running into the motel bathroom and slamming the door.

Dean chuckled as he heard the water running. He dug out the box of Lucky Charms and poured two bowls, setting the milk beside them without pouring it because Sammy couldn’t stand soggy cereal. Dean sat down to watch the TV Sam hadn’t bothered to turn off. Five minutes later, he ran out of the bathroom, naked and dripping wet all over the knobbly carpet. He dug a little pair of briefs out of a duffel bag and pulled them on.

“Ready!”

Dean looked him over, commenting, “Why don’t you go dry off and put your jammies on? Then we’ll eat.”

Sam set his hands on his hips. “You’re not my mommy.”

He got like this sometimes. “You’re not Daddy.” “You’re not the boss of me.” “You can’t tell me what to do.” But that one always hit Dean in a sensitive spot, so there was more steel in his voice as he said, “Maybe not, but I’m what you’ve got, and I’m in charge.” He spun the little one around and pushed him toward the bathroom. “Now do as I say or I’ll tell Dad.”

He would never actually do that, but it was a threat that worked on Sammy, who was grumbling his way back to get a towel. Dean started rooting around for some spoons and had found them as Sam came out of the bathroom again and started pulling on his pajamas. Dean poured one bowl of milk and was about to pour the other when a slightly muffled voice sounded.

“I can do my own!” Sam was trying to get his shirt over his head, reminding Dean to ask Dad to get bigger clothes for Sam. He put the two bowls on the table with the milk next to the one opposite him. He started eating slowly as Sammy climbed into the chair, grabbed the milk, and carefully started pouring. Dean paused slightly, watching to make sure he didn’t make a mess. Sam was careful, though, and put the bottle back upright without spilling. They ate in silence for a few minutes, then…

“Why don’t we have a mommy?”

Dean stopped chewing, trying to get his thoughts together. When Sam asked questions like this, he usually brushed them off, either ignoring him or distracting him. This time, he couldn’t pull off either.

“Well, Mommy really liked bowling. And she was really good, so the angels put her on their bowling team.” He had already told Sam two years ago that storms were just angels bowling and taking pictures. That’s what Mom had told him when he was that age.

“So she’s not coming back?”

Dean swallowed. Hard. “No, Sammy. She’s not.”

Sam nodded and looked back at his cereal.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

* * *

“Good night, Sammy,” Dean said, kissing his brother’s forehead. Sam wiped it off, but he’d never asked Dean to stop it, so they kept the routine for both their comforts. “Sweet dreams,” he continued as he tucked the blankets around the little body on his side of the bed. “I’m gonna go shower, and then I’ll be back m’kay?” Sam nodded sleepily, so Dean grabbed fresh boxers and went into the bathroom.

He took an exceptionally fast shower, knowing that if he wasn’t out in the main room when Dad got back, he could get in trouble. Not always, but it had happened once or twice and there were always threats.

When he turned off the water, he heard someone talking. Thinking that maybe Dad  _had_  gotten back, he toweled off quickly, ear practically pressed to the door. Then he realized the voice was too high to be Dad’s.

“-my soul to take. Amen.” There was a pause, then the voice continued. “Hi, God. It’s Sammy Winchester. I had a good day today. Even if it was too hot. Daddy left early this morning, so it was just me and Dean all day. He let me watch TV and gave me Lucky Charms for dinner! He also made me take a bath, but that’s okay because he was right. It helped me cool off. Thank you for giving me him. I hope Mommy’s having fun bowling on the team with the angels. But if she wants to come home, will you let her? I think Dean misses her. Please keep Dean and me and Daddy and Uncle Bobby and Pastor Jim and all of my friends and Dean’s friends and Daddy’s friends safe and happy. And can you make Daddy get me a puppy? I promise I’ll take care of it.” There was another pause and Dean could see in his mind Sammy’s face all scrunched up, trying to remember if there was anything else. “I think that’s it. Good night, God. Amen.”

Dean stood there, towel still in hand as he heard the rusty bedsprings squeak as Sammy climbed back in bed. Dean just stood there wiping the water off his face, which he thought he’d already dried.

* * *

Twenty years later, the storm raged outside as they lay in bed, Dean with his arm around Sam.

“Sounds like Mom just got a strike,” Sam commented. Dean chuckled.

“Yeah. Sounds like.” He leaned up and kissed Sam on the forehead. He didn’t wipe it off. “Good night, Sammy. Sweet dreams.”


End file.
